


In Return

by PowderDuff



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Zombie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 13:24:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3383156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PowderDuff/pseuds/PowderDuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"One can never be sure what goes through their head when they’re facing their death. Many say that your life flashes before your eyes, or it could be the face of the one that you love, but for Clarke Griffin all that was going through her mind was how she was going to die in the dumbest way possible." </p><p>Requested Zombie AU of Clarphy (John Murphy x Clarke Griffin), the two of them having to work together to survive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Return

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt/one shot requested of me on my tumblr about Clarphy (Clarke x Murphy) having to have each other's back during the zombie apocalypse. The same exact request was given to another and their story is located at --> http://archiveofourown.org/works/3365369

One can never be sure what goes through their head when they’re facing their death. Many say that your life flashes before your eyes, or it could be the face of the one that you love, but for Clarke Griffin all that was going through her mind was how she was going to die in the dumbest way possible. Lying on the floor of a forest with a zombie feasting on her face even though she had a gun.

 

The zombie had fallen on top of her. _Fallen_. Now she was pinned on her back with the walking corpse’s teeth rasping inches from her face. Her gun was jabbing painfully and uselessly in her back from where she stuck it in her jeans earlier. She knew if she moved one of her aching arms from the neck of the zombie to reach for it, the thing would over power her and bite off her freaking nose.

 

Clarke’s arms where shaking from holding the zombie away from her, it’s arms thrashing at her jacket and hair. Clarke’s teeth were bared and she was growling back at the thing. Her left arm, weaker than her right from being broken a few months earlier, was quickly giving out and she wasn’t sure how much longer she was going to be able to keep this up.

 

Suddenly, there was a loud bang and the zombie’s head jerked to the left, and the monster slumped on top of Clarke, dead, again. Clarke scrambled out from under it and her hand went to wrap around the handle of her pistol. Her eyes flicked to the boots of the person walking towards her, to the cargo pants, to the black jacket, to the face. He was young, close to Clarke’s age, seventeen or eighteen, tall and lean. His hair was greasy and hung in clumps around his face.

 

He offered a hand to help her up, which Clarke accepted, once on her feet, she gripped his hand tight, yanked him towards her and kneed him in the stomach, then pulled her gun out from her jeans and aimed it at him.

 

He let out an “Oof” and gripped his stomach, dropping the gun he had in his hand to the ground, which Clarke kicked away.

 

“What the hell, I just saved your life!”, his eyes were on the ground, his hands still clutching his stomach.

 

Clarke kept her gun pointed at him. “Yeah, no body ever does something like that unless they want something in return” She said, cocking her head to the side to see that the boy had a pretty stuffed backpack with him.

 

The boy stood up tall, his eyes widening when he saw she had a gun on him, he raised his arms in surrender. “Whoa, whoa now, come on”

 

Clarke moved and picked up her pack where she had set it down and placed a strap over her shoulder, still keeping the gun trained on the boy. “All the supplies I have are for me, and you’re getting them over my dead body”

 

Clarke saw his eyes flick to the gun on the ground and then back to her, “I have supplies, I don’t need yours”

 

“Oh yeah?” Clarke said taking a step towards him, “let me see”

 

“Ah fuck!” he exclaimed his eyes going to the sky, “This is the thanks I get for saving you? You’re robbing me?”

 

Clarke shrugged, “I could just kill you and then rob you”.

 

The boy smirked at her as he took his backpack off and tossed it to her. She crouched to the ground and opened the bag. It contained two bottles of whiskey, another jacket, and a lot of ammunition. No food or water to speak of.

 

She zipped the bag back up and looked back at him. “This is not what I would call supplies” she said with a laugh.

 

“Listen, I know that looks like I wanted to take your supplies, but if I wanted to, I would have just let that zombie eat you and then I would’ve taken your shit”

 

Clarke tossed the bag back to him, her gun still trained on his chest. She thought about what he said, he could have just let her die and then taken her supplies.

 

“Ok, then why save my life, then?”

 

He shrugged, “Not sure any more” he smirked at her again, “You’re the first person I’ve seen in weeks” he shrugged again

 

Clarke just stared at him, considering. He seemed sincere and he also hadn’t made a move for the gun that was kicked away.

 

Just then they heard a twig snap. Both their heads whipped to see ten or more zombies about 200 meters away and closing in fast.

 

“Shit, they heard your fucking gun shot!” Clarke yelled angrily

 

“The fucking gunshot that saved your life!” the boy yelled back he started to make a move for the gun on the ground.

 

“Hey!” Clarke yelled and he froze, then looked at her, then at the zombies and then back at her.

 

“Ah, fuck it” Clarke took off running, leaving the boy to rush and grab the gun and his pack and run after her.

 

“You were going to abandon me?”

 

“Abandon you!? I don’t even know you!” she yelled as she sprinted, the boy matching her pace easily.

 

The zombies were closing in on them, more seemed to be coming from their sides, their moans drowning out their panting and crashing through the trees.

 

“There!” the boy exclaimed pointing at a shed, “come on” he took off towards it.

 

Clarke deliberated, she didn’t know this guy, and now he was armed again. But when a zombie grabbed on to the back of her pack and she smacked it off with her gun, she realized she was very out numbered and didn’t have a choice.

 

She sprinted into the door that the boy was holding open. He shut it and they moved to block the door with whatever they could find in the shed.

 

“That won’t hold” Clarke said grimly as she looked at the flimsy wooden door and the crates and wheel barrels that had shoved up against it.

 

“Well, princess, it looks like we are going to have to fight” the boy said as he checked the ammo in his gun.

 

“If we shoot them it’s just going to draw more to us,” she said, her gun still in her hand.

 

“What other choice do we have?”

 

Clarke looked around her surroundings, the shed was wooded and the floor was mostly dried leaves and hay. There was a second story that had a window, but the stairs that lead up there had long been eroded away.

 

Zombies started banging and scratching at the walls and the door. The boy cocked his gun and aimed it at the door, taking steps back.

 

“Can you reach the second story?” Clarke asked, quietly, her voice hoarse from fright.

 

The boy looked up and nodded once.

 

“Ok, I have a plan, we are going to need your whiskey”.

 

* * *

 

 

The boy sprinted and leaped, his hands gripping on to the second floor and he pulled himself up. Clarke remarked how agile and strong he was even though he was so slender. When he was up there he turned and leaned down to help pull Clarke up.

 

They sat down and waited for the zombies to break the door down and come inside. The boy pulled out one of his bottles, opened it and took a long drink.

 

“Hey, come on, we need that” Clarke protested

 

He turned his head to look at her, rolled his eyes, and then took another drink. He then handed her bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his other hand.

 

“If I’m going to use my whiskey to make a zombie barbeque, I want a couple sips of it first”

 

Part of the door broke and a zombie was trying to shove its way in. Its jaws were gnashing and its eyes trained on them.

 

Clarke brought the bottle to her lips and took a big sip and the boy let out a laugh. “There you go, princess, join the party”

 

“Stop calling me that” Clarke said, turning her head to face the boy.

 

He smirked, “Then what should I call-“

 

The shed door snapped and broke and in charged a hoard of zombies, more than twenty of them. The two scrambled to their feet and Clarke reached over and ripped off the bottom hem of the boy’s shirt

 

“Oh, of course, my shirt”

 

Clarke ignored him as she stuffed the fabric in the bottle and removed her lighter from her pocket and flicked the flame. Once the fabric caught she moved to the edge of the story and looked down at the squirming, thrashing, mass of corpses below her.

 

The boy walked up and placed his hand on her hand that was holding the bottle and she flinched away from his touch.

 

“Let me", he said offering his hand again, and Clarke handed him the bottle warily.

 

He looked down and then tossed the bottle right into the middle of the mob. The Molotov exploded and the zombies caught fire. Their stumbling bodies quickly started to catch the rest of the shed on fire.

 

“Alright, time to go” the boy said and moved towards the window. He took off his jacket, wrapped his right arm in it and then punched the glass. When the window broke the oxygen fed the fire and Clarke could feel the heat lapping at her feet and ankles from below.

 

He looked down and then turned to her and held out his hands, “I’ll lower you down first, come on” Clarke eyed him, “Come on, we don’t have time for your trust issues, let’s go before we burn alive”

 

Clarke moved and started to move through the window, the glass shards cut into her hands and she turned to grip onto the boy’s arms. He took her weight and then lowered her down as far as he could and then let go. Clarke dropped to the ground and turned to watch the boy toss his pack out, then hers, and then he hopped out, landing on the ground with a thud. He picked up the packs and handed Clarke hers.

 

“Thanks”

 

The boy smirked, “No… no problem, come on let’s keep moving, I’m sure there are more of them out here”

 

Clarke eyed him, “Listen, how about we go our separate ways” the boy stopped walking and turned to look at her, “Oh, right” he said, scratching the back of his head with his right hand.

 

Clarke swung her pack from one shoulder and unzipped it. She rummaged through it and then held out to the boy a couple cans of food and a water bottle.

 

He eyed it but didn’t make a move to take it.

 

“Here, as a thank you for saving my life”

 

His eyes moved from the supplies to her face, “No body ever does something like this unless they want something in return” he smirked

 

Clarke shrugged and went to put the food back, “if you don’t want it” but the boy reached out and grabbed the bottle of water.

 

Clarke smiled and handed him the rest of the supplies, which he put into his pack. She turned and watched the shed still in flames, black smoke reaching high into the sky.

 

“What’s your name, anyways?” the boy asked after he put his pack back on his shoulders.

 

“Clarke, you?”

 

“Murphy, nice to meet you Clarke”

 

She adjusted her pack, though it didn’t need to be adjusted and brought her eyes to his. “Well,” and she turned to walk to her left, back towards the forest.

 

“Wait,” Murphy started from behind her, she turned and saw him walking towards her, she took out her gun and pointed it at him

 

‘Whoa, damn, again? What the hell?” he raised his hands, palms out towards her

 

“You’re limping, were you bit?”

 

Murphy raised his eyebrows, “What, no, I cut my leg on some of the glass from the window”, he bent down and lifted his left pant leg to reveal a long gash.

 

Clarke put the gun back in her jeans and walked towards him, taking her pack off of her back.

 

She dropped to her knees and unzipped and searched in her back and brought out a first aid kit.

 

“Sit”

 

Murphy complied and sat down with a huff, outstretching his leg to her.

 

“What I was saying, before you pulled a gun on me, again-” he hissed when she put alcohol on his scratch, “damn that stings. What I was saying, is it’s almost dark, how about we stick together, have each other’s back for the night, and then in the morning we can our separate ways”

 

Clarke raised her eyes from his leg to his eyes; he had that stupid smirk on his face again.

 

“Still don’t trust you”, she placed a bandage on his leg and pulled his pant leg back over it.

 

“Yeah, well, I still haven’t pulled a gun on you” he said with a laugh and pulled himself back up to his feet.

 

“Leg feel better?” Clarke asked as she put her pack back on and got to her feet. But when she looked at Murphy she saw his eyes go wide and him bring his gun out and point it at her. Clarke went to get her gun but someone grabbed her from behind and put a knife to her neck. The cold metal painfully dug into the sensitive flesh there.

 

“Drop your gun, or your girlfriend bleeds out before you even get a shot off” the voice from behind her was deep and Clarke’s eyes searched Murphy’s and his searched hers. He dropped his gun.

 

“Come on man, let her go, we got bigger enemies out here”

 

“We haven’t seen anyone in a long time, and then you guys show up, and burn down our shed”

 

 _We? Our?_ Then another man came up from behind Murphy.

 

“MURPH-“ the man dug the knife into her neck harder, effectively stopping her from warning Murphy as the other man hit Murphy in the back of the head with a rifle. Clarke watched as Murphy landed on the ground face first.

 

“Take him over there and string him up, he’s zombie food” the other man nodded on and grabbed Murphy’s legs and dragged him off.

 

“No” Clarke’s voice came out high-pitched, the man reached and took Clarke’s gun from her jeans then turned her around.

 

He brought the gun up and aimed it at her, “Well aren’t you a pretty little thing, toss me your pack, let me see what you’ve brought me”

 

Clarke obliged and tossed the man her back. He was an older man, in his mid to late forties, his shirt and jeans ripped and dirty, his teeth, that he did have, were yellow when he smiled big at all the supplies Clarke had.

 

As he continued to rummage through her bag and toss items on the ground, Clarke noticed movement behind him. A lone zombie was limping towards them. Its shirt was still slightly on fire, it’s right arm singed to the bone. Clarke made no indication of the infected’s slow approach. She just continued to stand with her arms raised as the man found her change of clothes, and laughed. “Won’t be needing these” he tossed them to the dirt, “not when you’re dead”.  He started to laugh just as the zombie sunk its teeth into his neck. That man’s laugh turned into a screech as he clawed at the creature.

 

He dropped Clarke’s pack and whirled around and shot the monster that was now enjoying a mouthful of the man. The zombie’s head jerked backwards from the impact of the gunshot and fell to the ground. Clarke dove and grabbed her pack; she pulled out the pocketknife she kept in the side pocket. The man put the hand that was holding Clarke’s gun against his wound, “Fuck!” he turned and that’s when Clarke drove the knife into his neck.

 

The man coughed up blood, his eyes wide. Clarke pulled the knife out and watched him fall to the ground, dead. She leaned down and took the gun from his hand and threw what she could back into her pack quickly and ran to find where the other man and taken Murphy.

 

* * *

She came around the other side of the burning shed and saw Murphy with a noose around his neck, balancing on a wooden crate and the man securing the other end to a branch.

 

“What was that gun shot?” Murphy asked the man, “Maybe you should go check that out”

 

“That gun shot, sonny, was Frank killing your girlfriend” the man sneered at Murphy and then turned back to securing the rope.

 

“What?!” Murphy practically shouted, and the man burst into laughter.

 

Clarke snuck around the tree and brought her gun up. She whirled around and aimed it the man. “Let him go, or I’ll shoot you”

 

The man turned to face her, his eyes going wide. “What, where is Frank?” he asked, his voice cracking.

 

“He is dead, and you will be too if you don’t cut that rope and let him go”

 

The man seemed to be considering his options. When he decided he smirked at Clarke and then kicked the box out from under Murphy.

 

The air rushed out of Murphy’s lungs in a horrifying gasping choke and Clarke pulled the trigger, hitting the man in the chest. He yelped and then fell to the ground, his hand putting pressure on his wound. Clarke ran and sawed at the rope with her knife while Murphy gasped and choked, his hands pulling at the rope around his neck, his legs flailing.

 

The rope snapped and Murphy fell to the ground, landing on his hands and knees. Clarke moved to him, dropping to her knees. She put a hand on his back and leaned down to look at his face.

 

Murphy’s eyes were closed and he was sucking in huge gasps of air, then coughing them back out.

 

“You ok?” Clarke asked, when he nodded, Clarke stood up and moved over to check on the other man.

 

“You bitch, you shot me!” He exclaimed,

 

Clarke shrugged “I told you I would”

 

Clarke raised her gun again and aimed it at his head, “You were going to kill us, only fair” she went to pull the trigger, but a hand reached out and stopped her.

 

“Let me” Murphy’s voice was raspy and his neck was red and irritated where the rope once was. Clarke nodded once and let Murphy take her gun.

 

She turned and walked to where the man had tossed Murphy’s stuff and started to pick everything up and pack it back. She opened up the bottle of whiskey and took a sip when she heard Murphy mumble something to the man and the gunshot ring out.

 

When he walked over to stand next to her, Clarke handed him the bottle, which Murphy took gratefully. He took a long gulp and then handed it back to her. “You saved my life,” he said, smirking at her

 

“We are even,” Clarke said returning his smile, then taking another sip of the whiskey.

 

“What did you say to him,” Clarke asked handing the bottle back to him, “before you shot him?”

 

“Bygones”

 

Clarke snorted, then handed Murphy his pack, and he put the bottle back in it.

 

“We make a pretty good team, princess, want to stick together for a while?”

 

Clarke nodded, “As long as you never call me princess again”.

 

* * *

 


End file.
